


we were the first lovers, and we will be the last

by marquelict



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), M/M, do i know a thing about the bible? no, happy ending I promise, will i pretend like i do? absolutely, yes ma'am i'm an atheist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 20:03:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19341637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marquelict/pseuds/marquelict
Summary: Crowley used to be Raphael, and then he fell. Life's funny like that because Aziraphale and Raphael were in love once, but only Crowley remembers.





	we were the first lovers, and we will be the last

**Author's Note:**

> yes, i'm a clown; please enjoy!

**before the creation of Earth;**

 

It was not like Heaven was boring, it was just expansive and with seemingly no end. Everyone there dressed so proper and the clothing was too light, just completely colorless and lacking… love, lacking any kind of personal touch. That was not at all Raphael’s scene. Illustrious angel with a tender heart, a healer — but Raphael couldn’t heal the fact that he didn’t fit in Heaven. Or, at least, didn’t feel like he belonged. 

Then, there was dear old Aziraphale — who he loved and who loved him. Aziraphale, thought Raphael, was so akin to him. The idea that they both didn’t fully belong in Heaven. But of course, Aziraphale was naturally good, and therefore, naturally stubborn. 

It was hard, evidently, the relationship that Raphael and Aziraphale had, because it was their love for each other that drove them apart. Aziraphale was a part of Heaven, it was imprinted on him more heavily than Heaven was imprinted on Raphael. Their love ached, it was painful, and Raphael needed to distract himself. 

So he created the stars. He created nebulas. He created something in the image of Aziraphale. A creation that they could maybe run away to, someday. Someday when Aziraphale lost his stubbornness. All of it was stitched together with love, and perhaps Raphael lost a bit of love as he relaxed among the stars. Not for Aziraphale, of course, but love for pretty much everything else. It was drained from him, he’d used it all up in one go. And when he returned to Heaven, his connection to Aziraphale nearly snapped in two. 

Raphael turned to the wrong crowd, and Raphael sauntered vaguely downward. 

 

**now;**

 

“What now?” Aziraphale said. He and Crowley were lounging in Aziraphale’s bookshop. The sun was low and hung heavy, sinking and sinking and sinking down. The angel held a glass of wine in his hand. 

“We return to our old lives, I suppose,” Crowley replied. “We’ve no longer the threat of Armageddon hanging over our heads.” The demon was sprawled on the sofa that Aziraphale kept in his bookshop only for the sake of Crowley. He looked like a character out of an Oscar Wilde novel. Drunk, lovely, and of course, completely demonic. 

“Naturally,” Aziraphale said with a nod of his head. He felt like drowning himself in wine. Every time he looked at Crowley he ached. It was an itch that he couldn’t make go away. Aziraphale constantly scratched and scratched at the itch. It remained. 

“What’s…” Crowly drawled. “What’s on your mind?” He’d kicked off his shoes. It was infinitely more comfortable that way. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “Just… I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Tell me,” Crowley pried. “We should stop keeping secrets from each other.” Aziraphale gazed at Crowley, more longing in his eyes then he would like to admit. At the same time, Crowley looked sober, he looked alert and needy. 

“Did it hurt… when you…”

“Did it hurt when I fell from Heaven?” Crowley asked. “Oh, come on, angel. There are a million pick-up lines better than that.”

“Be honest for once, Crowley,” Aziraphale said. “Look, I’m… I’m not trying to, to mess around with you. I have no cruel intentions.”

“You never do,” Crowley whispered.

The demon sighed. It was everything rushing back to him. Everything he’d tried to shove down and down again. The love that existed before the creation of Earth, the love that inspired the stars, the love that Aziraphale completely forgot. Because Crowley was forced to remember everything from before, and Aziraphale could not recognize the ex-Angel that he used to love. 

When Crowley spotted Aziraphale on the edge of the garden of Eden, he slithered closer and closer. He forced himself into Aziraphale’s life on earth repeatedly. Perhaps, Crowley thought, in a time when he was still named Crawly, that Aziraphale would remember him. Remember the time he was named Raphael, the time that they inspired the love that God would soon bring to Earth.

“Ask me again.”

“Did it hurt when you Fell?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Oh, angel,” Crowley started. “You should already know the answer to that question.”

“What do you mean, Crowley?”

“You were there.”

 

**the day that Raphael fell;**

 

Michael had gathered the angels. All of them. An audience of jeering looks. Angels that were ashamed that Raphael had been allowed the opportunity to remain among their ranks for so long. 

But Raphael didn’t mind their stares. He didn’t like any of the angels. Well, he liked one of them. And they made him sit up front. Aziraphale had first row seats to Raphael’s expulsion from Heaven. An angel’s tears have more weight behind them than anything in the entire universe. And Aziraphale wept like the end of everything had come. It probably did.

After Raphael was gone, apart of Hell and nothing more, Aziraphale locked away that part of him. He could not serve Heaven dutifully when his heart longed for someone he could never have. After all, consorting with a member of Hell was against everything he stood for. Or so, what Heaven taught him to stand against.

And when God created Earth, Aziraphale volunteered to be the angel that stood on the edge of the garden of Eden. The angel with a flaming sword. He was a part of Heaven, but he did not belong somewhere that took away the most important piece of him… Raphael.

**now;**

 

“Crowley, that’s not something you should joke about,” Aziraphale muttered. He’d set his glass down. He sobered himself up. This was no longer a conversation that someone should have drunk. 

“I’m not joking, angel,” Crowley said. “They made you sit up front. They made the whole of Heaven watch. I became the example of what not to do.”

Aziraphale’s breath caught. His heart hanging on every word. It was excruciating. It was unbearable. It was Aziraphale thinking the impossible.

“I tried to run away once. I went off and created the stars,” Crowley continued. “And as I created them, I thought of you.”

“Raphael created the stars, Crowley.”

“Yes,” Crowley said and he paused, tears welling. “Yes, I did.”

And Aziraphale stood up. He went over to the sofa where Crowley was sprawled and sat down so incredibly close to him. Crowley was near tears. Aziraphale was remembering everything. It was life returning lost luggage, it was finding a part of yourself that had been once ripped away. 

“Please, don’t cry, my dear,” Aziraphale whispered. 

“I can’t help it, angel,” Crowley replied, he was falling closer to Aziraphale. They were mere inches away from one another. “I’ve waited six thousand years for you to remember me.”

Aziraphale cupped Crowley’s cheek and Crowley shuddered. He’d waited six thousand years for Aziraphale to remember. He’d waited six thousand years to be touched so tenderly. 

“I need to be with you always,” Crowley said. His voice shook. All the love he tried to shake away was returning in one fell swoop. It would engulf him and fill him up and flush away the dryness that made his bones feel brittle. “I don’t want Heaven to take an inch of you away from me.”

“Well, my dear,” Aziraphale said. “I am loyal to you, not to Heaven.”

The angel pressed ancient kisses along Crowley’s forehead, and the demon melted absolutely into the touch. It was a craving so immense the world might’ve trembled, too. It wasn’t so hard to remember, after all, that all of the world outside that loved came inspired by the love that Aziraphale and Crowley once shared when Crowley was Raphael. 

 


End file.
